


Build God, Then We'll Talk

by TweekXCraig



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Cheating, Drug Addiction, F/F, F/M, Girl!Tweek, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-30 16:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8540593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TweekXCraig/pseuds/TweekXCraig
Summary: Tweek didn't necessarily like sleeping with men to get her way, but sometimes the ends justified the means. She just hoped Craig never found out.





	1. What a Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy

The rain was icy as it beat relentlessly down onto the cracked pavement, making chilly puddles that were easy to miss in the dark. Tweek let out a soft curse as she sunk ankle-deep into one of these said puddles, effectively soaking her panty hose and creating a pool inside of her shoe that made her foot slip around. She clutched her worn trench coat tighter around herself, trying to the keep the chill from seeping into her bones with little success. In her head, she counted the steps to her destination, and judging by the way the street became more fractured, she was almost there. It had been a long time since she had even dared to even come this way, preferring to hide out in the area of town near her university provided apartment. Anything off campus was taboo for her, this in particular. She tried to keep a neutral frame of mind as she checked the street signs, assuring her that she had arrived. The rain had seemed to let up some on the corner of 4th and Freemont Street and Tweek thought bitterly to herself that not even the rain wanted to touch this substandard motel she was shivering in front of.

Once upon a time, a place like this felt like home to her; she had belonged there. Now that she had worked so hard to be the exact opposite of what this motel stood for, it was a slap in the face to be standing in front of it again.

She had promised herself that these days were long gone for her, but she supposed that was the paradox of life; you have to return to your lowest points to ever get any better. Still, the thought of the appeal of this place and how it correlated with why she was here was enough to make her spine tingle in disgust. It was appealing simply because it was unappealing. She took a deep breath and approached the decaying wooden door, twitching a little as the vacancy sign violently flickered it’s neon glow at her, almost like it’s empty rooms were taunting her. She tried to remember what her priest had said to her during her last confessional, when she had revealed her life of sin. He had told her that whenever she entered treacherous waters to hold Jesus in her heart. She couldn’t quite find God in a place like this but she still crossed herself when she stepped through the door like it gave her an impenetrable shield from the evils inside.

The smell immediately threatened to make her gag, both in it’s familiarity and essence. There was a sickly, choking scent that she recognized from biology labs as formaldehyde which was overpowered by damp and mold. Every breath she took, she envisioned mold spores and asbestos particles coating her lungs, killing her slowly but surely, just like this place always had. The yellowed, peeling wallpaper and the flickering light bulbs seemed to welcome her home, beckoning her to the front desk to resume where she had last left off. The same weathered old man was still posted at the desk, as leery and pervasive as ever and when she quietly gave the name for the room she was seeking, he gave her the same toothless grin as usual.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you around here, sweetheart,” he answered rather than just giving her the room key so she could be on her way.

Tweek swallowed her sarcastic bite and tucked a stray strand of blonde behind her ear, trying to find a suitable response but coming up short.

“You people are all the same, aren't ya? Always trying to get out, but you always end up right where you started. Once a whore, always a whore, you know?” he chuckled and Tweek stared humorlessly at him. “Oh, lighten up princess. The world is a much better place when you have a sense of humor!”

He tossed the key over the desk and she caught it with one hand before turning on her heel and padding away down the stained carpet, putting as much distance between that man and herself as possible. She counted the room numbers and compared them to the metal plate attached to the key in her hand.

 _‘123’, ‘124’_ , and finally, _‘125._ ’ She stood outside for a minute and closed her eyes, rolling her thoughts over in her mind like a certain amount of consideration might make her throw the key and run far away. She wished she were sitting inside her apartment right now with her cat, Latte, and, her boyfriend, Craig, maybe even her roommate, Butters. On Saturday nights they typically ordered a large cheese pizza and a basket of fried ravioli from the restaurant across the street and Butters would go to pick it up for them while she and Craig snuck kisses on the couch. He respected her wishes to be a good Catholic girl and stay celibate until marriage. He thought she was a virgin, but he didn’t even know the half of it. They mostly just kissed with the occasional heavy petting and even oral once before Tweek’s stomach started that familiar twisting and she almost had a mental breakdown. Craig had apologized profusely afterwards and she had cried for hours because she so desperately wanted to tell him but knew he would leave if she did. He was too important to her and she couldn’t lose him.

He thought that she was staying late at her internship tonight to finish up some extra paperwork. _If only he knew_ , she thought sourly and stuck the key in the door with an ironic anger. After a mild protest from the lock, the door swung open and revealed her company for the night, laying stark raving naked on the bed, smoking a cigar with a dirty grin on his face, like it was a pleasant surprise she walked in.

“Why, hello, Miss Tweak, what brings you here tonight?” her boss, Mr. Cartman teased. She forced a tentative smile onto her face and stepped into the room, letting the heavy door seal her away from the outside world.

“Hi, Mr. Cartman,” she mumbled quietly, letting her eyes roam around the room to avoid looking directly at him.

“Aw, don’t be shy, baby, come here,” he beckoned and held out his arms for her. She cringed internally as she took off her damp coat and laid it to rest on the wicker chair near the flickering television before moving towards his thick, gelatinous mass sprawled out on the bed like a deadly amoeba waiting to consume her whole. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and stiffened when he sat up and pulled her close to him. He had that usual overwhelming scent of too much expensive cologne trying to mask sweat and smoke that invaded her nostrils and made her feel like she was suffocating.

“You look so beautiful tonight, Tweek,” he purred in what she assumed he thought was a seductive manner and gingerly took her chin in his hands. She could smell scotch and cigars on his breath as he practically panted in her face, dilated pupils scanning her features like she was a mirage bound to disappear in a moment. “Did you remember to wear what I gave to you?”

She nodded curtly. Yesterday, when she had been sitting in her little office right outside of Cartman’s, he had come to her. She had initially been beyond excited for the internship, practically crying with joy even though it was unpaid and consumed more of her time than she would have liked. She was pre-law and getting a foot in the door at one of the biggest firms in Denver was her ticket to success. She was a grinder now, but she knew someday she could be a partner, she just had to keep working. It was nearing the end of her first month and she was little more than a secretary for one of the biggest douche’s in the entire firm, Eric Cartman, but every intern of his always ended up with a job, so she still counted her lucky stars. That was, until she knew why. He had come to her after his lunch break, breath reeking of onions and fingers coated in a light layer of grease and closed the blinds. She had felt her heart break and her soul close up as he asked if how badly she wanted a job in their firm. How far was she willing to go? When she said, tearfully, that she would do anything, she had known what she was signing herself up for. At the end of the day he had placed a tissue-wrapped package on her desk with a note, telling her to wear the outfit tomorrow and where to go, along with a promise of a “starting bonus” and an official job at the firm starting on Monday if she went through with it.

The parcel had contained a white, lacy baby doll and a garter belt with matching stockings and no panties. A white rosary was tucked into the soft fabric as well with an additional message saying he had always wanted a Catholic virgin and to make sure she wore it tomorrow night.

That’s how she found herself laying on the grungy motel duvet while Eric Cartman panted and slobbered ontop of her, kissing up and down her milky skin. The rosary was tucked into the band of her garter belt and when he saw it after placing a kiss on her hip bone, he closed his eyes, resting his forehead on her stomach and let out a soft moan. Tweek’s skin crawled as he started to suck a hickey and she lightly batted at his face, trying desperately to stop him.

“I-I have a b-b-boyfriend!” she exclaimed and he grunted a little before continuing down her body.

The mention of her relationship reminded him that only hours earlier, Cartman had been with his own significant other. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Wendy, because he did; she was the love of his life. They just weren’t in love anymore. It was more of a convenience situation that held their marriage together than obligation at this point, and Cartman couldn’t bear to see his daughters upset and he knew Wendy couldn’t either. It didn’t make for a bad home life though because Wendy was still his best friend and they got along fairly well, voluntarily, not just for the children. They shared a bed and kissed each other ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ and Cartman still took her out for dinners and brought her home flowers. Cartman often wondered if the pressure of not having to be in love with each other made their marriage work so well. He remembered the intensifying guilt that arose when he first began to lose his love and constantly walked on eggshells, afraid that a single slip would let his wife know his true feelings. The day she had sat him down at their dining room table and told him with that bone-chilling serious tone that they needed to talk, his stomach had plummeted into his shoes. He had run through every single action, every breath he had taken near her that he could remember, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that she knew. His fingers had been clutching the edge of the table so hard, his knuckles had turned white when she sighed and took a deep breath before dropping the bombshell.

“I’m in love with Bebe,” she spoke in a tone barely above a whisper.

He could practically hear the record scratch in his head as he took a moment to process this and out of pure shock more than anything, he croaked out, “What?”

Wendy was on the verge of tears and brought a shaky hand up to rub over her face. “I’m so sorry, Eric. I never wanted to hurt you, I-I just couldn’t keep lying to you. I promise I’ve never cheated, I just—I have feelings for her and I’m not sure I’m still in love with you. I can understand if you want a divorce, but I still love you enough to stay if you want to make things work.”

“Bebe?” Cartman had never been the brightest bulb in the box and his brain was still stuck on the first thing she had said. “The nanny?”

“Yes,” Wendy mumbled shamefully, glistening teardrops rolling down her rosy cheeks, equal parts embarrassed and distraught.

  
“Oh,” Cartman let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and gave a tiny laugh before running a hand through his thinning hair. “Okay, good.”

Wendy looked at him in shock, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Cartman sputtered trying to backtrack and explain himself a little better. “Not, like—I mean, you know? I’m like a little shocked you’re in love with a woman and like, I’m not mad? I just, kinda was feeling the same way, not like—but I’m not in love with Bebe, though! I love you, I’m just not like, romantically in love with you, I guess is what I’m trying to say. If you wanted to like, stay together, I’d be comfortable seeing other people.” Cartman was uncharacteristically flustered and his face was red and sweaty as Wendy laughed a little getting up and going over to give him a long hug.

“How did I get so lucky to marry an amazing man like you?” she whispered into the crook of his neck while he rubbed a meaty hand across her back.

He smiled smugly at the memory while thrusting into the girl beneath him. Tweek was so beautiful it really did take his breath away; just the thought of her was enough to make his pants tight. She was such a tease and every day he had to walk past her sitting at her desk was torture. She had a charm about her that gave her a ‘Forbidden Fruit’ vibe and he wanted a taste. Her soft blonde locks smelled faintly of coffee and strawberries and her skin was so soft and smooth it was overwhelming. The way she presented herself, with that sheepish Catholic virginal air, like even just discussing sex would be too much for her to bear. It made looking at her all rosy-cheeked and panting laying beneath him feel all the better. She was so warm and wet, he had a hard time controlling himself and he shuddered as his climax rapidly approached, sending shivers up his spine and curses spilling out of his lips and onto her recently de-flowered skin. The fact that he was first to conquer this untarnished beauty gave him a warm glow; Cartman liked being in first. It was part of what made him the best.

Afterwards he could still feel her shaking in bed next to him, one of his heavy arms slung across her. Bile rose in her throat at the feeling of his fat, greedy fingers gripping her arm, occasionally toying with a lock of hair. Her body felt used. She knew there was no shower hot enough and no soap caustic enough to purge the film of filth from her skin she would carry around with her for the rest of her life. There never was. She hated herself more now than she ever had when this was her regular life. Back then, Tweek could not have cared less about who or what was inside of her. As long as it was quick and the pay was good, nothing bothered her. Tweek’s stomach flipped around inside of her uncomfortably as the memories invaded her from their locked confinements inside her mind. She had been living day to day, never giving a single regard to what would come in the future. All she had cared about was getting high and her favorites were always expensive. But there were plenty of men besides her dealers that had been willing to feed her addiction and she would always gladly take them up on the offer.

She figured she would have probably died on the streets if it had not been for Butters. She had met him during a church hosting she had gone to, getting a bed and a warm meal and only having to endure a night of preachy holy-rollers. Butters had been her counselor and had stayed with her the entire night, strictly enforcing the church’s ‘No Drug’ policy. At first she had hated him, thinking he was just doing it to be a dick but she quickly came to realize that he was one of the most kind and sincere people she had ever met. He had sat with her while she sobered up and held her when she cried and confessed her sins to him like he was the God who could save her. He didn’t judge her twitching and random verbal outbursts and endured her shaking while everyone stared like she was a circus attraction. He had promised her that night that he would help her get better and he did.

He had saved her life in so many ways. He let her sleep on his pull-out couch and drove her to clinics. He got her a job at the library and Narcotics Anonymous meetings. He took her to church and helped her enroll in community school. He would eventually help her apply for scholarships and colleges that would accept and helped her get into the University of Denver’s pre-law program and in turn, helped her meet Craig there. She owed everything to Butters and that’s part of why she was doing this. Butters’ mother was sick and he was going to have to go transfer to a school back home and care for her himself because they couldn’t afford to put her in the nursing home.

She sat staring at the wad of bills Cartman had stuck in her purse before he had slipped out of the room in complete conflict. She knew Butters would protest the money he thought was coming from a starting bonus, but if he knew what it was really for, it would be a slap in the face to him. But they really needed this money. She needed Butters in her life; he was like a life preserver that constantly kept her afloat and losing his warm presence would be the equivalent of drowning. She loved Craig and he helped her in so many different ways, but Butters was her savior and she would always need him in her life.

Cartman began the long walk to his car, not daring to park it anywhere near that notorious whore motel. He felt younger than he had in a long time and he relished the spring in his step as he approached his car, pulling out his phone and flicking through it to find the contact he was looking for. He started the car while the ringing trilled in his ears and applied a thick layer of smug to his voice before speaking when he heard ‘ _hello?_ ’

“Ah, yes, I just wanted to inform you that I was finishing my meeting when I became aware of a potential prostitute,” he smiled as he began the long drive back home. “She’s all yours, Officer Marsh.”


	2. His Proposition For That Virgin

Stan had liked to think of himself as a good person. He didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, he didn’t do drugs. He went to church every Sunday and volunteered in his free time. He had become a police officer, just to help the people within his community. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just made bad decisions.

He was only human after all, and was allowed to make a mistake every now and then. At least, that’s what he told himself so he could sleep at night.

He turned the heater up in the car and continued fiddling with his phone, waiting for a call and halfway hoping it didn’t come. Cartman had said to be parked a street over from the motel by 11:00 and it was almost 11:30 now. He hoped he hadn’t accidentally killed the girl or something; that would be a lot of paperwork Stan really wasn’t in the mood to deal with on this dreary Friday night.

He closed his eyes and reclined his seat backwards to rest and mull over his reasons and rational for being here. What he was doing was highly illegal, but compared to some of the other guys in his squadron, this was kiddie shit. He wasn’t _really_ hurting anybody, just borrowing them, maybe? He let out a long, shaky breath and rubbed his eyes hard enough to see colorful stars, trying to think about the positives here instead.

Cartman had practically creamed himself just talking about this one. She was a blushing virgin, apparently, all soft and smooth. She was willing to do whatever to get ahead in life, including Eric Cartman, apparently.

Stan’s hand shook as he pressed the heel of his hand down over the cloth strained across his crotch. Visions of a pretty blonde girl with wide blue eyes and pink pert lips that slowly slid over his—

The loud blaring ring of his phone made him jump and sit up straight, smacking his head on the roof of the car as he did. He hissed a swear and fumbled for his mobile device that had slid off his lap in his panic. Finally, he found it, picking it up and grumbling roughly, “Officer Marsh.”

He could practically feel the cockiness dripping off of his friend’s tone over the phone as he let him know it was his turn to have some fun. Stan quickly exited his squad car, locking it and hurrying up the road to reach his daydreams.

The sketchy old man behind the counter restrained himself from saying anything when he requested a copy of the key, but Stan could see the jeer in his eyes. He figured that this was the kind of shit that man lived for, taunting and teasing the poor unfortunate souls that crossed through the lobby. Stan hurried down the corridor, fluffing his hair and straightening up his badge to look as official as possible before he broke the law.

On the other side of the door, Tweek was sitting on the bed, shaking as she tried her best to fix her face. Craig had called moments ago, concern tingeing his voice as he asked if she would be home soon. She had apologized and lied to him about paperwork taking longer than expected and the words stung her throat like she had a mouthful of scorpions. He was too good for her, and it killed her. He had offered to come pick her up, worrying about her being too tired to drive in the rain, but she had hurriedly declined. After she hung up, she couldn’t make the tears stop.

She hugged her chest like it could stop the shattering of her heart and soul and sobbed desolately for the loss of her new found innocence. This wasn’t the life she was supposed to be living anymore. She was better than this; or so she had thought.

She didn’t want to make Craig, and probably Butters, too, worry anymore and grabbed her purse to pull out a makeup compact. She tried her best to fix her face in the compact, almost finished when a loud, terrible crash came from the entrance of the room. Jumping up, the purse and the bag of clothes she had brought to change into spilled across the dirty carpet.

Standing in the doorway, holding a badge out with a shaking arm was man with short black hair and a horrible glint in his eyes.

“Freeze!” the police officer demanded.

Tweek felt her face drop and her stomach sink as she slowly lifted her hands up to her head.

“You’re under arrest for suspected prostitution! Anything you say, can, and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an . . .” The officer listed off her rights as he came over to turn her around and lowered her hands to place what she presumed would be handcuffs on them. Tears filled her eyes again and wondered what she was going to do. She couldn’t call Craig and tell him what had happened, and she would rather spend the rest of her life rotting in jail than have let Butters know that she had failed him.

The officer stopped speaking, one of his large, rough hands holding her wrists together behind her back. There was nothing but her tiny sniffles and the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room and it made Tweek’s heart jolt. Her quivers stopped when she felt the officer press himself flush against her body, arousal brushing against her spine.

He spoke and it was hot and heavy in her ear, making her skin crawl.

“Unless,” he purred, “You’re willing to work with me on this.”

The lump in her throat made it hard to breath. He let go over her arms and she quickly crossed them over her stomach, cringing forward away from the man behind her.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he cooed into the skin of her neck right below her ear, big hands running up and down the contours of her body.

Tweek felt catatonic, staring out the dirty window into the night, letting her mind go far, far away from this place to a soft, warm bed with Craig.

~~~~

Cartman whistled as he drove home. He was incredibly pleased with himself and wished the whole world could know it. He had called Wendy once he was on his way home, but she never picked up and he figured she was probably with Bebe. He smiled smugly to himself again, hoping that they would still be going at it when he got home. Maybe they would let him watch this time. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was something fantasies were made of. God, he loved his wife.

Earlier that night, before he had left for the motel, he had dinner with his family. He had listened dutifully to his two daughters excitedly chattering about their day at school, and what friend had done what, and things they had hoped to do that weekend. Wendy mainly conversed with them, but Cartman interjected in all of the appropriate places.

“Keep up those grades!”

“No dating until you’re forty!”

“Sure, you can have money to go to the mall this weekend.”

He was a great dad and his family was perfect. After the kids had run upstairs and it was just the two parents, sitting and drinking liquor after dinner like they did every night, he mentioned his meeting later on.

“Pleasure or business?” she had smirked over the rim of her martini glass and Cartman returned the smirk.

“Strictly business, darling,” he replied.

Wendy’s head cocked to the side, lush black hair spilling over her shoulder before taking another drink.

“What does she look like?” a coy smile was creeping onto her face and Cartman rolled his eyes.

“Blonde hair, blue eyes; typical.” He shrugged and Wendy laughed.

“Sounds cute.”

“She is,” Cartman assured her and took a sip of his own drink.

“Don’t stay out too late tonight,” Wendy reminded him standing and walking back to the kitchen to refill her drink. “Layla has her ballet recital first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Right,” Cartman murmured to himself.

Pulling himself out of his memories, and back to the present, Cartman’s eyes slid over to the clock on his dashboard. It was a little later than he had intended, but it really wasn’t his fault, he just couldn’t help himself.

Across town, in that dreaded motel room, Stan couldn’t help himself either. His hands shook as he stared down at the angel below him. She bare and beautiful; creamy skin laid out all for him.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed his heaven on Earth now, because he knew he would be going to hell later.


End file.
